


The Conductor's Demands

by ChibiStarr



Series: Silence 1 [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: The Architect's real name is never mentioned so I made one up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7172123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiStarr/pseuds/ChibiStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corypheus never changed at all, really. He has always had a flair for drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Conductor's Demands

**Author's Note:**

> "The High Priest of Beauty, Architect of the Works of Beauty, designed  
> Every work and wonder of the Imperium according to the plans of his god.  
> To him, the Conductor went in secret, armed  
> With the whisper of Silence.
> 
> But the High Priest of Beauty was sorely troubled,  
> For he served only the Great Plans  
> And would in no wise raise a servant of Silence  
> Above himself or his god.
> 
> And yet, the fire in the Conductor's heart ignited  
> Within the Architect a terrible flame."
> 
> \- Canticle of Silence, 1:9 - 1:11

He knew _exactly_ who was coming to bother him the moment he heard the swift, excited footsteps drawing closer to his study. One would think a devotee of Dumat would know how to be more quiet. With a sigh and a resignation of his wishes for a calm afternoon, he quickly moved all of his fragile and unstable projects out of the way and decided that today was a new-library-for-glorious-Urthemiel day. At least he had finished putting the miniature of it together: hard and sharp in its imposing edges yet contrarily decorated with sweeping curves and arches resembling dragon wings along its highest points. A great achievement, if he did say so hims—

The doors to his workplace were flung open and there stood Sethius Amladaris in all of his glory, his high priest robes askew from all of his running. “Nanterius!” he said, practically shouted, before the echoes died away. “ _There_ you are! Why have you not responded to my letters, I am in need of your assistance!” His angry steps strode into the room and the slaves hurried to close the doors behind him.

Nanterius sighed again and, for once, prayed to Dumat for patience and for the God to kindly remove His high priest from his office as soon as possible. “I gave clear instructions to my disciples that I was not to be bothered by anyone or anything,” he said coolly. “Which you are breaking.”

“Never mind that! What I have to say is more important than your scribblings and dabbles in architecture! This will change the world!” Sethius gestured grandly at this, almost knocking over the half-finished model of the new astronomical observatory that Nanterius mistakenly thought he had put out of harm’s way.

“Change the world? As if I haven’t _that_ one before.” Already his patience, which Dumat decidedly did not grant him more of, was wearing thin. How dare he call Urthemiel’s divine will _dabbles!_ As if the roads he walked on to get here and the very temple he worshipped _his_ God in wasn’t designed by Urthemiel’s own instruction!

Sethius glared at him and he was met with cold indifference. “Dumat told me something,” he said in a low voice, leaning forward and placing his hands on the table. “Commanded me, actually. And I need your help achieving it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Help from my scribblings and dabbles? I’m flattered.”

“Enough!” Sethius spat, straightening up. Smoke was curling from the corners of his eyes and the amulet to Dumat around his neck pulsed with a dim light. “Dumat has given me a command and I will follow it, and you will help me!”

His anger was growing in response to Sethius’s own, and the instruments around the room whistled and spun in reaction to their rising magical energies. “Urthemiel commands me, not _you,_ ” he said with an edge that usually didn’t come to him.

A wave of Sethius’s hand seemed to dismiss his anger, call it petty. “Urthemiel will command you too. Just ask him later. This is more important than anything we’ve ever done, than anything anyone has _ever_ done.” He was pacing, gesturing again, and filled with a mad energy that Nanterius had never seen before. Despite himself, he was intrigued.

“And what is this grand scheme of Dumat’s?” he demanded, turning to look at Minrathous. Beautiful Minrathous that he had helped design. Black stone with marble and gold inlays, hymns and prayers to the gods written in silver. Temples adorned with pearl, diamond, and life-sized dragon statues decorated in a myriad of gemstones that sparkled in the brilliant sunlight. Streets of pure white, with swirls of gray from the stones used to make them, expertly cut to reveal the layers of color underneath. His home. His masterpiece.

Sethius’s voice was low and hard as he answered. “The great golden city in the Fade… the one no one can reach. We must get inside.”


End file.
